


Choke

by Igirisuhito



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Zero
Genre: Hair-pulling, M/M, Overdosing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Igirisuhito/pseuds/Igirisuhito
Summary: Kamukura is sick of living a tortured existence
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Matsuda Yasuke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Choke

**Author's Note:**

> I write about bitches pukin 2 cope. A short practice in writing a consistence tense.

Hope's Peak Academy has a pharmacy. 

Not the one belonging to the Ultimate Pharmacist, but your stock standard drug storage. Shelves upon shelves filled with colourful boxes and bottles. The organisation was impeccable, everything has a place under the harsh burn of white fluorescent lights. 

In the dark, it becomes a different world. Eerie, morphing figures twisting before Kamukura's eyes. Crowded shelves being a constant nuisance for him to run into, jutting into his sides with every misstep. 

He may be talented, but he is still only human. His eyesight can only do so much even in the dark. 

Most medications were kept in the front, easily accessible so student prescriptions can be filled. Medicine to treat all sorts of ailments, mostly of a lighter degree. Your more harsh medications are kept in the back, stored behind a locked door that only medical professionals had access to. 

Just a locked door, a too-strong twist of a knob away. 

And so that's just what Kamukura does. His fingers gripped the knob tightly as he turned it. There was a loud crunch as the deadbolt shattered inside the door, and then the door was open. 

He stumbles into the room, eyes bleary and head spinning. It felt like his actions were no longer his own, just the actions of a man who had an intent. And that intent was to get rid of this feeling, this lingering sense of dread, the pain of knowing everything all at once. 

The world was hellishly mundane. Every task burned with the ache of repetition. It was as though he'd done this all a million times, breathed a million breaths, died a million deaths. 

Leaning against the wall, his eyes rapidly scanned the shelves, seeking a suitor who could solve all of his problems. The names of each medication filled his head, their chemical makeup, potential side effects, drug interactions. 

He just can't take it anymore. 

Kamukura reaches out, grabbing two bottles of whatever is in reach. His luck would make up its mind, surely. All these talents to torment his existence, and for one of them to fail him now? It would have to be some sick irony. 

He doesn't feel a thing as he drops to the floor, knees scraping against the cold concrete. There was no race in his heart, no expectation or feeling of trepidation. Only him, alone with the sound of the bottles rattling in his hand. 

If Kamukura could find it funny, he's certain he would laugh. But it is in fact miserable, and yet he feels no sense of sadness. 

His gown falls loosely around him as he struggles with the bottles, attempting to wrench one open. It was as though his eyes couldn't focus, constantly drifting around the room and blurring whenever he tried to gaze down at what he's doing. His hands were shaking, yet his nerves were steeled. 

And with a loud click, he finally opens the bottle. 

Without a second of hesitation, he brings it to his lips. Tilting his head back, he tips the coloured capsules into his mouth. They're dry, delicate, already beginning to dissolve from the saliva on his tongue. 

Kamukura swallows, forcing a mouthful of them down. The dry swallow feels like nails on his throat, burning and scratching on their way down, as though trying to claw their way back out. And yet, even when he chokes, he forces more down. 

When he feels himself close to gagging, he pinches his nose until he can no longer breathe and forces himself to swallow. A solution to his problems was within reach, and yet his body rejects it. He couldn't make sense of it, his body accepted the very talents that landed him in this horrid situation, but refused the medicine to fix it. 

It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. He knew and understood everything in the world, and yet none of it made sense. 

When the first bottle is empty, he tosses it to the wall, revelling in the loud  _ clack  _ that echoes around the tiny room. Calculations of angles and degrees and sounds and physics and before he knows it, the second bottle is pressed hard against his chapped lips. 

Tipping it to the ceiling, Kamukura swallows a mouthful of capsules with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He hears a door slam open in the distance, the loud slap of sandals on vinyl flooring. The sound grows louder and louder, the huff of somebody running out of breath echoing in the hallways, the hard push against the door to the pharmacy. 

He's coming. 

Kamukura forces himself to swallow down another mouthful. He listens to the soft curses under the other boy's breath as he navigates his way through the shelves, shoulders knocking against hard corners with every movement, pushing himself to make his way to this little back room. 

And when he finally reaches the door he flings it open with a strong kick, causing a gust of wind that blows Kamukura's hair back. He stumbles into the room, panting and out of breath with a deep scowl on his face, one that only seems to deepen when his eyes fall on Kamukura's hunched over form. 

"You fucking idiot!!" 

Matsuda grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling it back until Kamukura's head is tilted up. The bottle is dropped in the scuffle, pills clattering on the floor as he is pushed around. Two fingers hook around his cheek, before impolitely being forced into his mouth. 

He chokes as they roughly scratch at the back of his throat, airway blocked and gag reflex being forced to work. A rush of nausea overcomes him as Matsuda forces his head back forward, forcing Kamukura to look to the floor as he retches. 

It's a horrible sensation as he vomits, throat burning with bile and half dissolved pills. Matsuda curses away in his ear, seemingly unsympathetic to his suffering as he scrapes vomit from Kamukura's tongue with his fingers. He teases a momentary reprieve that Kamukura should know better than to believe, before forcing his fingers back down his throat, causing him to retch again.

Of course, Matsuda's not going to stop until he vomits nothing but bile, until there is not a single pill left in his stomach. 

"You're like a dog, left unsupervised for even a moment you try to shove anything in your mouth that will kill you." The darkness in Matsuda's voice attempts to chew away at Kamukura's heart, unsuccessful in making him feel any guilt towards his actions. "You suicidal bastard, why do you want to kill yourself so badly? You wanted this, remember?" 

He always loves to ask questions like that, as if Kamukura could remember. As if being told these facts would make him remember. Matsuda had always been partial to gaslighting him whenever his frustrations grew high. Like an impatient mother. 

He truly was a reflection of his own childhood. 

Finally content, Matsuda removes his fingers from Kamukura's mouth, hand still gripping firmly on his hair. When he finally releases him, Kamukura body falls limply against the wall, careful not to land directly in his own mess. 

With the adrenaline slowly subsiding from the both of them, Kamukura can see the look of repulsion in Matsuda's pale eyes. The way he gags and bites his tongue, before wiping his hand on his already filthy shirt. He's no longer mad, just disappointed, frustrated, tired. 

Kamukura isn't sure what's worse. The fact that he's upset Matsuda, or the fact he feels nothing in doing so? No burning sense of shame or guilt, a hollow feeling in his chest to join the one in his stomach. 

"Stop causing so much trouble for me, dumbass." Sighing, Matsuda fusses with his bangs, exposing his sweat gleaned forehead. "Now I have to go get a mop. I'm a scientist, not a fucking janitor."

He leaves the room, muttering away to himself angrily as he does so. The door slams behind him, leaving Kamukura alone in the darkness to recover. 

There are dried tears on his cheeks, and his whole body aches with exhaustion. He blinks slowly, attempting to see in the darkness. 

Is this truly what his life has come to? 


End file.
